


The Lake House

by Cissylein



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Curse Breaking, F/M, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Fluff and Smut, Post-Hogwarts, Post-War, Roommates, Severus Snape Lives, Smut
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-11
Updated: 2021-03-11
Packaged: 2021-03-13 10:22:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29899668
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cissylein/pseuds/Cissylein
Summary: An ancient curse threatens to destroy Hogwarts. Severus Snape and his former student Hermione Granger are forced to work together - and to share a house by the lake.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Severus Snape
Kudos: 40





	The Lake House

He was not surprised when he heard the familiar POP. However, he had not expected the person who had apparated a few metres behind him. Unlike him, Hermione Granger was not surprised to see him, for she was smiling.  
With a wave of his wand, Severus Snape closed the flower of the plant whose seeds he had just plucked and eyed his former student. She was wearing jeans and a plain white top and her hair was noticeably longer, but without having lost any of its opulence.  
Potter had probably grown up the fastest of all his students, had matured the fastest due to his experiences. But visually Miss Granger had made the biggest leap; without the Hogwarts robes, she looked years older. This was clearly a woman standing before him, not a teenager.  
The realisation upset him more than he would have liked.  
"Nice place you have here," she finally said, letting her eyes wander over the house at his back.  
"How can I help you, Miss Granger?"  
"You could offer me a room."  
Minerva had warned him that he might get a roommate, but he had thought it would be one of the professors.  
"I wasn't expecting you," he said.  
Hermione shrugged. "Well, here I am."  
"Did you lose a bet?" asked Snape with a raised eyebrow.  
"No. More like my sleeping place." She pointed at the plant. "Is that a Venemosa Tentacula?"  
Snape nodded.  
"Why is it growing out here?"  
"Don't you live in Grimmauld Place?" asked Snape, not answering her question.  
"Yes, but that's where the Weasleys are now. Almost all of them except Charlie, he's gone to stay with Bill and Fleur. You know that house, it's big, but it's also not _that_ big."  
Snape sympathised completely. One Weasley was one too many, a whole bunch of them? Unimaginable.  
"What about your parents' house?"  
"Too far from Hogwarts. It's too much of a hassle to get here. Besides, my parents are out of town and I'm not used to being completely alone."  
"So you don't just want a place to sleep, you want a roommate," he stated in consternation.  
"Is the idea so terrifying to you?"  
"In order not to hurt your feelings, I will not answer that question."  
"As if you'd pay any attention to that," Hermione said, unimpressed, and walked past him to the house. She let her gaze roam over the porch and then glanced at the first floor window. "I'm sure even three people could fit in here. You won't even know I'm there. During the day we'll be at Hogwarts and otherwise, I'll be out of your way."  
Snape doubted that. "You don't have much luggage."  
Hermione lifted a small bag into the air. "All in here."  
"Well, I suppose I have no choice. Minerva would lecture me if I sent you away and I don't know which is worse: Your presence or her nagging."  
Hermione sighed but smiled as she did so. "You really haven't lost any of your charm," she said.  
Snape walked past her into the house and motioned for her to follow him.  
"Kitchen," he explained curtly as they walked past a small kitchenette, "living room," he gestured through a large, light-filled room until he finally turned a corner and stopped in front of an open door that gave a view of a small but cosy room, with a bed, a desk and a large wardrobe. "This would be your room. My bedroom is upstairs." He felt his face grow hot. It was supposed to be casual information, but in retrospect, it sounded inappropriate to point it out to her. He didn't look at her. "You can do whatever you want in here," he explained instead, "start house-elf rescue circles, book clubs - as long as you don't make any noise and as long as you do it alone."  
"Understood," Hermione said, amused.  
"And no cats."  
"Are you allergic?"  
"No. I just don't like them." He left Hermione standing and headed back towards the front door.  
"Really?" she exclaimed, running after him. This was getting off to a good start! "You seem like a cat person."  
"Whatever that means."  
"Well, you have some things in common."  
Snape stopped, turned to her, and raised an eyebrow. Hermione had to grin. "You can't hear them coming and they're moody."  
"Charming," Snape replied.  
"Are there any rules I have to abide by?"  
"Do not, under any circumstances, approach me before I've had my first coffee. And if possible, not afterwards either."  
"So it's like always: I keep my mouth shut, and then if I do say something, you ignore me."  
The corners of Snape's mouth twitched. "Ten points to Gryffindor."  
"Oh dear," Hermione said, "a dream comes true."  
"This is what you've been dreaming about? That I'd award you points?"  
"I'm easily pleased, professor."  
Snape hummed, eyeing her. "Now that we've got that settled: Do you want to walk to the castle or apparate?"  
"Oh, I'd enjoy a walk," Hermione said with a smile.  
"Very well," Snape said, "I will apparate then." And without another word, he did so.

  
*

  
Severus Snape was not of the sentimental sort. However, seeing Hogwarts in this desolate state got to him. It was not only the destroyed parts that gave the impression that the castle was on the verge of final decay, for this would have been easy to repair. It was above all the fact that all colour had escaped from the old stone walls. Standing outside the gates of Hogwarts, it was like looking at a black and white photograph. Hogwarts was like a dying tree. A parting gift from the Dark Lord. A curse that had soaked deep into the walls of the old school. A fate that affected not only Hogwarts but many houses of many wizards and witches. The Burrow was uninhabitable. His own house in Spinner's End, as well. Only No. 12 Grimmauld Place had been spared, as had Shell Cottage. Snape suspected that the Fidelius Charm was the reason.  
The particularly insidious thing about this curse was that it had been slow to show its destructive power. After the Battle of Hogwarts, the castle was completely restored and gradually both teachers and students returned to normality. A year after the victory over Voldemort, the first signs of wear and tear appeared, but everyone who noticed them attributed them to inaccurate repairing charms. Two years later, the repairs were renewed. By the third year, there was no mistaking that something was clearly wrong with the castle until various curse-breakers determined that black magic was the cause. The headmistress had done everything she could to ensure that the seventh years exams could be held, after that the castle and its teaching staff were evacuated in the hope that the problem would be solved within the summer holidays. It did not look like it would.  
The west tower had been hit particularly hard, looking as if someone had forgotten to attach the individual stones to each other with clay. All they could do was stabilise the particularly ailing areas, move parts of the wall back to where they belonged, while the curse-breakers tried to find and eliminate the source of the black magic.  
For many professors, Hogwarts was not only the workplace but also a home. The only one to some extent, so that the majority of his colleagues had had to form residential communities. The fact that he was not necessarily at the top of the list as a desired flatmate had suited him very well. Nevertheless, McGonagall had informed him that he might soon have to share the house by the Great Lake, which had hitherto been hidden behind a spell as a safe house and had finally been made available to him as his new home. It had never occurred to him that she had been talking about a former pupil.  
And now everyone who cared about Hogwarts was busy around the clock researching and, if possible, breaking this damned curse: professors, students, alumni, Aurors, and curse-breakers.  
Snape took a deep breath. Then he drew his wand and entered the castle.

  
*

  
  
When Snape returned to the house by the lake that evening, the air was still incredibly thick. It had been a particularly hot July day and it seemed like it was going to be an equally hot night.  
Shortly after he had sat down on the veranda with a cold drink, Hermione Granger apparated outside the house.  
Snape sighed softly. He had forgotten for a moment that his quiet, solitary evenings were over.  
Hermione went into the house, came back out a few moments later with a cold iced tea, and flopped into a chair on the other side of the porch.  
"Whew!" she said, wiping the sweat from her brow.  
Snape rolled his eyes.  
"It's unusually hot for Scotland, don't you think?"  
"Perhaps," Snape replied without looking at her.  
"It can get incredibly stuffy in London too, but I don't remember it ever being this hot here during my school days."  
She was actually talking about the weather.  
"So the Ministry of Magic just gave you leave?" Snape asked, trying to add some depth to the conversation he obviously wasn't going to get around.  
"Yes," Hermione said. "This is pretty serious business, after all."  
"And what department did you end up in? Let me guess: Magical Creatures?"  
"Magical Law," Hermione said with a wry smile. "Legislation."  
"I suppose that's exceedingly exciting," Snape said dryly.  
"It's important," Hermione replied. "And if I do my job well, words like Mudblood may eventually be a thing of the past."  
Snape said nothing in response. It was a lovely dream she was having. Should she just dream it on. He looked over at the castle, which silhouette could be seen at its best from the veranda.  
"How do you actually stand it, in that outfit?" he suddenly heard the Gryffindor ask.  
Snape turned his head slowly. "Excuse me?"  
"Your clothes," Hermione replied, letting her gaze wander down him briefly. "It's cool in the dungeons of Hogwarts, but out here? Aren't you terribly hot?"  
"I'm a wizard, Miss Granger."  
"That means you...use a cooling charm under these robes?"  
"Of course."  
Hermione stared at him with wide eyes. "So you're more likely to maintain a spell throughout the day rather than wear other clothing?"  
"Do you have a problem with that?"  
"No."  
"Then why do you pester me with it? You're a witch and yet you've been walking around with that bird's nest on your head all your life. Habit, I suppose."  
Hermione sulked and shook her head. Snape congratulated himself inwardly. Silencing her with insults was perhaps not the polite English way, but if it was the only way, it was the way of his choice.

  
*

  
When Snape got out of bed the next morning, he remembered that he was no longer alone in the house. That he probably wouldn't be able to have breakfast undisturbed either. He cursed McGonagall as he looked morosely at his reflection in the mirror. Maybe he was lucky and Miss Granger was a late riser.  
_I should've known better_ , he thought, as he stepped out onto the porch and found his former pupil still stirring a little wearily in a bowl. Porridge! This gooey something reminded him of his childhood, reason enough to give it up.  
"Good morning, Professor," Hermione said, to which Snape gave her a warning look.  
"Oh, sorry," she muttered.  
Snape placed his cup of coffee and a plate on the small side table next to his regular seat and sank into his chair.  
He bit into his toast and now that he was no longer alone, he noticed how impossibly loud the sound echoed around the porch.  
He cursed McGonagall!  
Chewing as silently as possible, he opened the Daily Prophet. But he didn't have to look at Hermione to know that she was staring at him.  
"What?" he asked aggressively.  
Hermione shook her head. "Nothing at all."  
Snape gave her his _I know you've been up to something_ look. It had always worked in school days.  
"It's just" - it still worked – "well, I've never seen you eat before!"  
"Well, surprise, I'm eating!"  
Hermione stifled a grin, then returned her attention to her porridge as Snape turned again to the Daily Prophet.  
"Is that honey?" he heard Hermione ask a few minutes later.  
Snape dropped his toast onto his plate in a huff. "Good God, Granger, what did you think? That I was feeding on potion ingredients ?"  
Hermione looked at him, startled, then started laughing. "I don't know. Can you eat Flobberworms?"  
Snape sighed. "One can. Whether one should is another question."  
"I'm learning new sides of you, it's fascinating."  
"Which one? Nutrition?"  
"Your choice surprises me a little, that's all."  
"You're surprised that I prefer honey on my toast? That's ridiculous!"  
"Do you like jam too?"  
"I'm not having this conversation."  
"Do you eat _only sweet_ breakfast?"  
"Shut up Granger, I'm not going to say it again."  
Hermione chuckled.

  
*

  
  
The following days went by in the same routine as before, only much more untroubled.  
Snape got up, had breakfast, apparated to Hogwarts, came back, ate something, and finally settled down on the veranda with a book and a drink before going to bed.  
It had been like that for a fortnight before Minerva had thought it a good idea to put Miss Granger up with him. Now she also sat on the veranda in the mornings, stayed there most evenings and worst of all: she talked!  
When he came back to the house on the first Friday of her moving in - while he apparated in the morning, he liked to use the way back from the castle for a walk - Hermione was already there and ran to meet him. She was wearing a short summer dress and looked more dressed up than usual.  
Snape eyed her from head to toe. "You shouldn't have," he said dryly.  
Hermione tilted her head. "I'm going out!"  
"Out."  
"Yes. That's when you meet people, have a drink, dance."  
"I may be a misanthrope, Miss Granger, but that doesn't make me a hermit."  
Hermione smirked; Snape, on the other hand, left her standing and made a move to go back to the house. As he walked past her, he noticed that she smelled remarkably good.  
"Well then," he said. "Please don't give Potter and Weasley my regards."  
"Oh, I'm not going out with those two."  
Snape stopped and half turned to face her. "You're not?"  
Hermione shook her head. "Harry and Ginny would be snogging all the time and Ron...well, it's weird dating the ex-boyfriend."  
Ex-boyfriend? That explained why she had moved out of Grimmauld Place alone, without Weasley in tow. Snape wondered why there hadn't been an article about it in the Daily Prophet. Not that he had read it.  
"Longbottom? Lovegood?" he asked.  
"You're quite curious, Professor." Hermione crossed her arms in front of her chest. "If you must know: I have a date! And don't you-"  
Snape raised an eyebrow.  
"That's exactly what I meant, don't do that!"  
"You might as well ask me to stop breathing."  
Hermione sighed. "Have a pleasant evening!"  
"I certainly will. Undisturbed. Please, take your time!"

  
*  
  


His wish was not granted. Just over an hour later, he heard the now almost hated POP as Hermione apparated in front of the house.  
He had just made himself comfortable on the veranda with a book and a glass of wine and pulled a face when Granger shuffled up the two steps to the veranda.  
She looked so bitter that Snape's anger vanished. She obviously hadn't had a good evening - fine! Why should she be better off than him!?  
"Is there any wine left?" she asked as she entered the house.  
"Help yourself," Snape said, waiting until Hermione came back outside and sat on the porch railing, her back turned to him.  
"Did your date turn out to be Draco Malfoy?" he asked.  
"Haha," Hermione said, then sighed, "Malfoy probably would have had more of a sense of humour."  
"Ouch!" Snape put his book aside. "That bad?"  
Hermione made a sound of agreement. "He wasn't a wizard, by the way."  
"A mountain troll?"  
"Did you have giggle biscuits for supper?" asked Hermione.  
The corners of Snape's mouth lifted slightly.  
"It was a Muggle. I only date Muggles these days," she said, sipping her wine.  
Snape's smile died. "Why on earth?"  
Hermione looked at him over her shoulder and choked. She began to cough, at the same time she laughed. "You should see your face," she croaked.  
"So it was a joke," Snape said with relief.  
"No, it wasn't." Hermione swung her legs over the parapet and now sat facing him. "Wizards only see me as Harry Potter's best friend. Sooner or later they ask me a question about him. Whether he really has that scar. Whether he can really speak Parseltongue. One of them once wanted to know why Harry didn't just have a conversation with the basilisk..."  
"Hmm, a fair question."  
"...while he was peeling the clothes off my body," Hermione added.  
Now it was Snape who choked on his wine. He pressed the back of his hand against his mouth, coughing.  
"You all right?" asked Hermione with a grin, making a move to pat him on the back, but Snape raised his hand defensively.  
"I suppose you wouldn't do such a thing while undressing a woman," she said, looking at him challengingly.  
He couldn't even remember the last time he had undressed a woman.  
"No," he said when he no longer felt the urge to cough. "I wouldn't generally think of Potter at this moment."  
Hermione laughed.  
"That fascination with snakes...that could only have been a Slytherin."  
"Yes, he was."  
Snape looked at her in surprise. Hermione looked back, surprised as well. "What?"  
"I didn't think you'd..."  
"What, date Slytherin's? Seriously? Did you think I'd choose by _houses_? Is that what you're doing?"  
"I don't date."  
"That doesn't answer my question."  
"Hmm." Snape sipped his wine again. "Gryffindors haven't brought me much luck so far."  
For a while Hermione was silent. "True," she said then. "Ravenclaw would probably be a good fit for you - if we're thinking in those terms." She hesitated for a moment. "Did you know the Sorting Hat was going to send me to Ravenclaw?"  
"No, but I'm not surprised."  
"Was he undecided about you too?"  
Snape didn't answer. He just looked at her.  
"Gryffindor?" asked Hermione cautiously.  
Snape didn't answer this time either, but his look spoke volumes.  
"Do you regret it?"  
"There are some things I regret. Choosing Slytherin is not one of them."  
Hermione smiled, then took another sip of her wine.  
"How much longer do I have to call you Professor, anyway?" she asked after a while. "I'm not your student anymore."  
"It's a title. I am a professor whether you are my student or not."  
"You're also a terrible smart-ass."  
"Said the know-it-all."  
"What I was actually getting at," Hermione continued, "I find it strange that we don't call each other by our first names, even though we live together."  
"We live under the same roof, that's different."  
Hermione rolled her eyes. "I could just do it without you offering."  
"You could. It would be rather rude, though."  
"I can live with that. Severus."  
"As you wish. Miss Granger." He squinted at her over the rim of his glass and saw her grinning. Then she suddenly hopped off the parapet. "I'm going for a swim."  
"A swim?"  
"Yes." Hermione pulled a scrunchie from her wrist and tied her curls into a wild knot. "In the huge lake that's right in front of us."  
"I don't think that's a good idea."  
Hermione kicked her sandals off her feet and walked barefoot across the grass to the lake. Snape stood up and followed her. "Miss Granger, this lake is teeming with countless creatures that would love to eat you for breakfast."  
"No one cared about that at the Triwizard Tournament either. _Why don't we send Harry Potter into that lake and see if he survives?_ "  
"We made a deal with the Merpeople then. I'm not going to do it again just so you can have a swim."  
"Then you'll have to take care of me. Turn around!"  
"I...what? You-" Snape lowered his head as Hermione unbuttoned her dress and turned his back on her. He waited until he heard splashing in the water before daring a cautious glance over his shoulder.  
Hermione was floating through the water on her back with her eyes closed. She was wearing nothing but underwear - Snape didn't know if his sweat broke out from that fact, or because he was glad she wasn't completely naked - and her curves stood out clearly against the surface of the water. He averted his eyes and gritted his teeth.  
"You can turn around," he heard her call.  
He did so, with all the indifference he could muster, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. Hermione was now treading water.  
"It's lovely!" she said, a little out of breath. "But probably not as refreshing as a permanent cooling charm."  
Sarcasm? How droll. "My clothes seem to preoccupy you a great deal," Snape said, and regretted it immediately. He didn't want to give the impression that he was flirting with her. The very idea was absurd.  
Hermione laughed, surfaced a little from the water, then disappeared completely beneath it.  
"Don't!" warned Snape, taking a step towards the shore, then he sighed. "Restless brat." A few moments later Hermione reappeared. As she swam towards the shore, Snape turned his back on her again and waited for her to dress. Then suddenly she was standing beside him. Her hair lay heavy and dark over her shoulders, water stains showed on her dress. She smelled of damp moss and summer and a faded hint of perfume.  
"You don't know what you're missing," she said as water dripped from the tip of her nose.  
Snape said nothing.

  
*

  
It was still early, but the sun was already doing its best to make the veranda appear in the most beautiful light. Snape found himself enjoying these quiet, sunny mornings. He was preparing his coffee and stepping out onto the veranda to settle down in his regular spot - when he spotted the animal. A large, fat cat with red, long fur lay on the veranda parapet, lazily moving its tail back and forth.  
Snape pulled a face. "Granger," he growled, setting his mug on the table and grabbing the cat, which let out a protesting mewl. Then he marched straight towards Hermione's room and banged his fist against it. Several times.  
It took a while before the door opened. Hermione looked sleepily at him, her hair looking as if it had a Billywig caught in it. Snape was furious, but not so furious as not to notice that she was only wearing a top and pyjama shorts.  
"What time is it?" she muttered, reaching out to scratch the fur monster on his arm.  
"I said no cats!"  
"Crookshanks is a tomcat," she said with a smile he remembered from older days when she had blabbed without permission in his class, though he had deliberately ignored her.  
"Felis Catus!" said Snape irritably. "You know, of course, that I was referring to species!"  
"As for that...Crookshanks is half-Kneazle."  
"Misssss Granger!"  
"Can't you make an exception, please? I can't leave him alone with my parents all the time and they don't want him in Grimmauld Place either."  
Snape gritted his teeth. "I don't want that monstrosity on my porch!" He pushed the cat towards her. "If I discover so much as a cat hair in the house, you bring him somewhere else."  
"Yes, sir," Hermione said, burying her face in the cat's fur.

  
*

  
Even in the second week since Snape had been involuntarily given a roommate, there was no progress at Hogwarts. It felt like the whole of Scotland, including the castle, was trapped under a bonnet. The same was true of the weather. It remained incredibly hot. Miss Granger had gone out on a date for the second weekend after moving in and this time had not returned immediately. For the fact that he had once thought her a wallflower, she seemed to have a busy private life by now. Snape had enjoyed being able to spend the evening undisturbed. When he had gone to bed after midnight, Miss Granger had not yet returned. That did not happen until early morning.  
Snape had just come out onto the veranda with his coffee when he saw her: cheeks flushed, hair dishevelled, roots damp. Hermione Granger looked as if she had been having sex all night. At least, that was how Snape imagined she would look afterwards.  
He took a sip of his coffee, just to do anything other than stare at her.  
She followed his actions with her eyes. She stared so longingly at the cup in his hand that he envied it. He went back into the house without a word and returned with a second cup. Hermione sighed gratefully as he handed her the steaming drink.  
"That seems to have been a successful night," he said. It was meant to sound indifferent but came across his lips a touch too prickly.  
"Huh? Oh. Depends. A successful date? No. A successful night? Yes! I've danced for hours."  
Hence the sweaty look. "Are you implying you spent the whole evening alone?"  
"No, we met up with friends of his when he realised we didn't have chemistry. For more than going dancing, at least. And as a group, we had a lot of fun."  
"Do you forget you're a witch when you're around Muggles?"  
"Sometimes. It's easy when no one knows who Harry Potter is."  
"If you could change it, would you? If I put a time turner in your hand and offered you the chance to start over?"  
"And not be a witch anymore? Never."  
"Your life would certainly be easier."  
"Maybe. Then again, maybe it wouldn't. I wouldn't want to miss anything. Not even any of the bad experiences. All of it has made me who I am today."  
The smartest witch of her age. And beyond. But he didn't say that.  
"And I wouldn't have met so many fascinating people," she continued.  
"Nasty Potions Professors?"  
Hermione smiled. "Those, too."

  
*

  
When Snape came back to the lake house one evening, Hermione was already sitting in the rocking chair on the veranda. She had her legs drawn up and was gently rocking back and forth.  
She said nothing when Snape also entered the veranda. He went in and was about to make himself some tea when he saw that there was already a ready pot on the table. He poured himself some on a trial basis, found that the tea had been properly prepared, and went outside with a full cup. He sank into his chair and opened the Daily Prophet to the page he had stopped reading after breakfast.  
However, he found it difficult to concentrate on the content of the article. Granger's silence was louder than any of her superfluous lectures on a subject that did not interest him.  
He lowered the paper and looked over at her. "What's wrong?" he asked.  
Hermione lifted her head. "Hm?"  
"You're suspiciously quiet."  
"I didn't mean to disturb you," she said, her voice sounding slightly nasal.  
"That has never stopped you before. Did something happen today? At Hogwarts?"  
"The Gryffindor tower," Hermione replied. "Doesn't look good."  
Snape frowned. "That means?"  
"The black magic has soaked deep into the walls there and there has been no progress in removing it. The tower is only held together because there are two witches and wizards performing healing magic around the clock. This is not a solution in the long run. Bill has tried just about everything, but nothing will work."  
"If a curse breaker can't do it, I don't think there's anything I can do, but I'll come with you to the west tower tomorrow and see if anything catches my eye."  
"Thanks," Hermione said, smiling sadly. "How are things with the dungeons?"  
"Better, obviously. Since part of the dungeons are surrounded by the lake, I think it reduced the curse."  
"That's great news," Hermione said. "That's a success." Then she looked back at the castle. "I wouldn't trade my time at Hogwarts for anything in the world. My entire youth is in that tower." She smiled, then lowered her head to her knees.  
Snape turned back to his newspaper and drummed his fingers on his thigh. But he did not get further than one line. So he put it aside again, stood up, and left the porch. He walked around the house, in the past few days he had seen the cat loitering there - and indeed. He was sitting on a pile of wood, looking at him from his flattened feline face. Snape grabbed him - another protesting meow - and walked back to Veranda.  
"Here's someone to cheer you up," he said, standing in front of Hermione. She lifted her head and immediately her expression brightened. "Hey Crookshanks," she said, sitting cross-legged, "where have you been, huh?"  
Snape set the cat on her lap and then touched Hermione's shoulder fleetingly. She looked up at him in surprise, but Snape had already turned and was sinking back into his chair. He opened the Daily Prophet – once again - and stared at the lines in front of him that just wouldn't make sense.  
"Thank you, Severus," he heard her saying. He nodded.

  
*  
  


The weeks went by. August brought no cooling off and there was no progress in the castle. Severus Snape and Hermione Granger found a routine that they both got on with quite well. She learned to hold back when she sensed he needed rest; he did her the favour now and then of striking up a conversation of his own accord when he sensed she was down. Some days they were so exhausted that they didn't speak a word to each other after returning from Hogwarts to the lake house. Then they would sit on the veranda in peaceful unison, staring at the silhouette of Hogwarts and drinking wine. On weekends, Miss Granger now met mostly with her friends, but on this one Saturday in August, she had set out on a date after a long time. She hadn't dressed up any more than she usually did when she went out, yet that evening she looked more beautiful than ever. Snape had averted his eyes when she had stepped out of the door, beaming and smelling of that light perfume, had wished her a pleasant evening and had disappeared into the house.  
A few hours later, the sun having set, she returned. Snape had just settled down on the veranda with a glass of wine when he heard the familiar POP. He hadn't expected to see Miss Granger yet, but he felt relief.  
Hermione came slowly towards the porch. Snape tried to look cool and not as if he had been waiting eagerly for her.  
When she stepped into the light of the lanterns, she had a strange expression on her face. Snape frowned and opened his mouth, but then she came to him, took the glass from his hand, and drank a large gulp from it. The gesture was startlingly intimate.  
When she handed the glass back to him, their fingertips touched. They held eye contact the whole time. Snape had not the slightest idea what was going on.  
He raised an eyebrow. "Are you all right?"  
"That was a very weird night."  
"Weird guy?"  
Hermione shook her head. "No. He was perfect, to be honest. Good looking. Intelligent. Funny."  
"Serial killer?"  
"Paediatrician. Late 20s. Sophisticated."  
"Homosexual?"  
"Oh, definitely not."  
"But?"  
"I was thinking of you the whole time."  
For a moment, something snapped in Snape's mind. He liked to be in control, he liked to be superior, and most of the time it worked. But this was uncertain territory for him. He couldn't deny that he had grown accustomed to Miss Granger's company, even appreciated it to some extent. And over the past few days, he had found himself repeatedly thinking unchaste thoughts that would have worried him in other circumstances. Instead, he enjoyed these harmless fantasies, knowing that Hermione Granger's thoughts would never go in the same direction, and so there was no need to dwell on them more closely. Well, at least that was what he had believed until this moment. The fact that she apparently also gave him a thought now and then completely overwhelmed him.  
"I'm sorry," he said because he couldn't think of anything else to say.  
Hermione brushed a curl behind her ear and smiled sheepishly.  
"That wasn't the reaction I was hoping for."  
Snape set the wine aside and rose. He had a feeling this was not a conversation he should be having sitting down. "What reaction were you hoping for?"  
Hermione shrugged. "That you would press me against you and kiss me passionately, for example."  
Snape forgot to breathe for a moment. "Is this a trap?"  
"Wow, you're really out of practice, aren't you?"  
"Yes. That being said, I can't quite comprehend why you would turn down a man who is apparently the complete opposite of me."  
"Because I enjoy the time with you? Because you make me laugh? And because I keep wondering what's under all those layers of fabric?"  
Snape touched his collar as if he himself didn't know what was hiding underneath. He swallowed audibly. "I feel like I've ruined the moment."  
Hermione bit her lower lip. "Fine, I'll start again: I couldn't stop thinking about you. When I entered the pub, I wondered what you are doing. As he sipped his beer, I imagined you sitting here taking a sip of your wine at the same time. When he put his hand on my waist, I imagined it was yours."  
Snape took a step towards her, then another, until he was standing close to her. He saw her open her mouth, breathing faster. Then, as if automatically, his hand slid to the back of her neck and pulled her into a kiss. It was not a tentative kiss. He didn't have to make sure she wanted this, she had given him more than signals. It was an electrifying play of lips and tongues.  
Here he was, in the middle of a veranda on the Hogwarts grounds, snogging Hermione Granger. From the outside, they probably looked like his annoying students, who stole away at night to exchange first experiences in the greenhouses or the Forbidden Forest or wherever he found them. But this was anything but annoying. And this had nothing to do with the awkward fumblings of teenagers. They were a man and a woman who could do whatever they wanted. And right now, Snape wanted to press himself against her, to show her what she unleashed in him. He didn't. Maybe she just wanted a kiss. But Hermione pushed her pelvis towards him herself and sighed as she obviously felt exactly how hard he was. "Sleep with me," she whispered against his lips. Now it was Snape who moaned softly. Merlin, yes. He wanted to lift her up here and now and thrust into her, make her scream so loudly that the creatures in the Forbidden Forest took flight. But the thought of Hagrid dropping by to check on things didn't fit the erotic picture. He concentrated on the young witch in front of him. "Come," he said.  
Hermione pushed herself off the beam of the porch she had been leaning against until just now and took his hand. Snape entered the house with her and headed straight for Hermione's room. She stopped him, however. "Cat hair," she murmured apologetically. "Can we go into your bedroom?"  
"Sure," Snape said. He didn't care where they did it, he was about to pounce on her here and now on the carpet. He lifted her up and set her on the bottom step of the small spiral staircase that led to the top floor, so they were almost even. He took advantage of this small interruption to kiss her again. She tugged impatiently at his frock coat as if she too was struggling to hold back. He broke away from her, only to push her further up the stairs. When they reached their destination, Hermione let her gaze roam the room curiously, running her hand through her curls uncertainly.  
Snape regarded her intently. "Are you regretting it already?"  
"No. I'm just nervous," she said as she walked backwards to the bed. "Fantasising about something and then actually experiencing it are two different things."  
Snape followed her and frowned. "You fantasised about it?"  
"Is that bad?" asked Hermione, her cheeks red.  
Snape stared at her in irritation for a moment, then laughed. "No. It's flattering. But also...unexpected." He eyed her curiously. "What exactly were you fantasising about?"  
"I'd rather show you."  
Snape drew his wand and pointed it at himself, but Hermione pushed his arm down. "Absolutely not," she said, taking the wand from him and tossing it aside. "I want to undo every single one of these buttons myself."  
She carefully began with the top button on his collar. It was an incredibly intimate gesture because no one had ever done that before. Then she opened the second.  
"Your hands are shaking," Snape said.  
Hermione said nothing in reply, steadily working her way down, blinking at him now and then from under her lashes. Then she pressed her lips tightly together, obviously trying not to laugh.  
"Just as it is not appropriate to address a woman on the successes and failures of a certain Harry Potter while you are undressing her," Snape said piqued, "neither is it tactful to laugh at a man you are undressing."  
Hermione lowered her head against his shoulder. "Sorry, I'm not laughing at you! I'm just so incredibly intimidated!"  
Snape raised an eyebrow. "Already?"  
Hermione chuckled against his shoulder.  
"I know _this_ ," he pointed to his open buttons, "has already been a sort of foreplay for you, but that doesn't mean we can't stop any time you feel uncomfortable."  
"I'm not uncomfortable, Severus, anything but. I'm just a little nervous. Probably because this thought has been ripening in my mind for a few days now."  
"So you've been imagining seducing your former professor for a few days now."  
Hermione jutted her chin and exhaled loudly. "Guilty. Are you uncomfortable with the idea?"  
"I don't think I've ever been less uncomfortable than I am right now."  
Hermione smiled.  
"I would suggest, however," Snape continued, "that we speed this up a little." He undid the remaining buttons of his frock coat, slipped it off his shoulders, and tossed it aside.  
Hermione, meanwhile, was fiddling with the buttons on his shirt.  
"Do you have a button fetish?" he asked, amused.  
"More like a Severus Snape fetish," she murmured, pushing the white fabric aside. She looked at his naked torso for a moment, then leaned her face against him, kissed his collarbones, and let her fingers slide over his stomach.  
Snape swallowed audibly. Her touch, her closeness, excited him, without question. But the tenderness of it awakened something deep inside him that went beyond sex. Never before had anyone treated him so lovingly, looked at him as she did.  
"Your turn," he said in a husky voice, trying not to be completely overwhelmed by the moment. Hermione grabbed her dress by the hem and pulled it over her head so that she stood before him in only her underwear. Her body was flawless. She was petite rather than curvy, but everything fit together perfectly. He knew his arousal would be no less if her belly was less flat, her breasts less plump, her skin less smooth. But he felt as if he were standing in front of a fountain of youth and he wondered what he had done to deserve something so beautiful. Mixed in with his excitement, however, was astonishment. He had never really thought about Miss Granger's underwear before, but judging by her rather colourful style of dress, he had guessed that the underneath looked similar. And not as...wicked. The panties and bra were black, with lace and just above the savoury details sheerer than the rest of the fabric.  
"So this is what you seduce Muggles with?" he asked, unable to take his eyes off her body.  
"No," she replied, "this is specifically for Slytherins."  
Snape's gaze darted back to her face, then he cupped it with his hands and kissed her hungrily, pressing that beautiful body against his. Hermione fiddled with his trousers, which slid silently to the floor a moment later, then undid her bra, which also landed somewhere on the carpet. Snape let his hands slide from her face to her shoulders and on to her breasts. They nestled perfectly against his palms. Hermione sighed softly and let her hand slide to his crotch, stroking it through the thin fabric. Snape moaned into the kiss, his erection twitching in anticipation, even more so when this outrageous Gryffindor slipped her fingers under the waistband of his pants and pulled them down until they hung around his ankles. She snuggled against him again and now it was only her panties that separated him from immediate contact with her.  
Snape lifted her up and dropped onto the bed with her, running his hands over every part of her body. He kissed her stomach, the insides of her thighs, and finally her pubic area. Hermione moaned impatiently and squirmed under his touch. He slowly pulled her panties over her hips, slipped them off her legs, and finally lay on top of her. He enjoyed her warmth, the feel of her skin, and the way her hands settled on his buttocks. He wanted, he _needed_ to know what it felt like to be inside her. When he was inside her, just a little, Hermione stretched her neck and moaned. "More!" He gave her more. He continued to penetrate her until there was no more until his pubis was pressed against hers, and it was such a heady feeling that he let out a string of obscenities that he immediately regretted. But the young witch beneath him didn't seem to mind, on the contrary, she gasped and kissed him and bit his lower lip playfully.  
It was surprising how quickly they found a common rhythm. His thrusts were slow, he didn't want this to be over too quickly under any circumstances.  
But soon she was begging for more, deeper, faster, and who would he be to deny her that wish?! So he moved faster, thrust deeper, and reaped the naughtiest of sounds from her.  
"God," she moaned aloud, "oh Godric...Merlin!"  
Snape paused for a moment and raised an eyebrow. "Now I realise why you wanted to bed me. You have a soft spot for older men."  
Hermione threw her head back and laughed heartily, but when Snape began to move inside her again, her wonderful laugh turned back into that even more wonderful moan. It still seemed unreal to him that he elicited those sounds from her and he wanted nothing more than to give her the best night of her life, to pleasure her for hours until she begged for sweet release. But she was so tight and wonderful and it had been so long since he'd gotten that kind of satisfaction from anyone but his right hand that he couldn't restrain himself any further. He felt his climax approaching, gripping her thick hair and moaning, trying to delay the inevitable. But as he thrust into her one more time, he was carried away by his orgasm and forgot for a moment who he was and why.  
As he lifted his head, breathing heavily, Hermione brushed his hair out of his face.  
"Wow," she said softly, looking anything but disappointed - but exceedingly turned on.  
"I agree," Snape said hoarsely, sliding out of her before rolling onto his back and trying to catch his breath. "How may I help you have the same wow experience?" he asked.  
"By getting ready for a second round," Hermione replied. "Do you think you can do that soon?"  
Snape snorted. "I don't know what you've been told by your mid-twenties lovers, but I'm still quite capable of several rounds. Until that time comes, I'm going to take care of you for a bit." He sat up a little, kissed her shoulder, her collarbone, and finally let his lips move further down her.  
"Good," Hermione sighed with pleasure, "but not too much. Because I really want my wow experience while you're inside me."  
"Good God," Snape moaned against her stomach and slid down further until he disappeared with his head between her legs.  
Hermione squirmed under him as he licked and kissed her, but when he felt her arousal growing too much, he stopped and turned his attention to another part of her body. She begged and pleaded and probably didn't even know what for herself. It didn't take long for the arousal to be clearly felt between his legs again, but instead of telling her, he pressed against her from behind as he was spreading kisses on her shoulder blades.  
She moaned in anticipation, pushed him off her, and made him lie on his back. Then she was above him, straddling him, and lowered herself onto him. She threw her head back and began to move on top of him, and for Snape it was the best sight he could imagine. He put his hands on her hips but left the pace to her.  
"Oh God," she groaned as she moved her pelvis more and more energetically on top of him, back and forth and back and forth again, "oh God, I...!" He watched as she was seized by her climax, whimpering and trembling and she was so beautiful, so real, so true.  
When her body stopped shaking, she lowered herself onto his chest, breathing heavily, and Snape gripped the back of her neck, letting his other hand trail down her back. When her breathing had calmed a little, he began to move his hips, thrusting into her until he came a second time with a deep moan.  
Hermione slid off him, rolling onto her back, her hair was sticking to her face in sweat. Snape turned his head lazily. So this was what she looked like when someone had fucked her by every trick in the book. He turned his head back, closed his eyes, and laughed.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This story isn‘t beta‘d, so every mistake is my fault. Feel free to let me know if there‘s anything that doesn‘t sound like correct English - if you like that story, I‘m happy about comments, as well <3


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